


You Are Not Mine

by My_Wife_Sharon_Raydor



Category: The Closer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-28
Updated: 2013-11-28
Packaged: 2018-01-02 21:26:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1061843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Wife_Sharon_Raydor/pseuds/My_Wife_Sharon_Raydor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Certain circumstances may force one to confess their true feelings, expecting drastic changes to happen. But sometimes, confessions are never enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set in between scene cuts at "Death Warrant".

As soon as Sharon crossed into the threshold of her condominium unit, she knew she was not alone; the lamp in her living area was turned on, illuminating that area of her dark abode. However, she was not alarmed by this. There was a man—a telling, familiar, dark hair facing her way—who was seated on the couch, looking into the dark space outside her patio.

She shut the door loudly and intentionally to catch her intruder’s attention. She was very, very pissed at him, and fighting so hard not to lunge at his body. Today had been stressful beyond what she handled on a daily basis—being in Internal Affairs for far too long made her forget what it felt like to get an adrenaline rush from a car chase, and what recoil from a shotgun felt like. But this man’s actions took her stress level to an all-time emotional high.

He turned her way, looking at her with anger etched on his face.

She glared back, thinking, How dare he be angry at me? Earlier that day, Fritz insisted that he would join the security detail for Robert Curtis--the bastard whose life, they deducted, was threatened--because his wife was there. She understood, alright; he was still trying to salvage his dying marriage. But she could not deny that she felt her heart stop beating for a couple of seconds when her IA team relayed to her that it had been he and DDA Hobbs who was shot at, revealing that Andrea was the real target.

Fritz looked disheveled, necktie loosely hanging around his neck, hair in disarray, and obviously infuriated by something. He walked towards her slowly. Sharon was not about to back down, but she felt her heart racing in her chest for something far more intense than fury, seeing that, yes, he was riled up—but he was also looking desperate.

He stopped half way towards her, and with a hoarse whisper, he started, "Sharon,”. She dropped her bag from her shoulder to the floor.

Fists tightly clenched, she fought back a scream—there was no point fighting over this—and answered him with an equally quiet whisper, “You almost died.” She looked at him, daring to explain himself, even if she perfectly understood why.

"It was part of my job. I had to be there—

She scoffed in frustration, effectively cutting his statement before he finished, “Oh did you have to be there? It’s FBI’s job to escort civilians targeted for assassination? Was that only why?” She was determined to hurt him, the way he was hurting her beyond she thought he would ever be capable of.

"And what did you think you were doing? Brenda told you to just keep an eye on Maria Florez, and then you end chasing cars and shooting shotguns—

"I am not going to break, Agent Howard.” She stressed on her last two words, reminding herself of his place in her life, “I am not your wife.”

Silence. She expected him to retaliate, because it was a reminder of this illicit almost-affair he started: That night when his frustration got the better of them, when Fritz was looking for care and Sharon happened to be there—and she truly cared for him, motivated by something that ran deeper than friendship. They both knew it had to be stopped as early as now, while it still had not borne fruit yet. Sharon felt her air pipe constrict at the thought.

And then Fritz moved again, towards her, eyes with gentleness instead of anger. At arms length, he reached for Sharon’s face, cupped her jaw with his right hand and stroked her cheek with his thumb. He sought her eyes, and Sharon felt them boring into her soul, digging her heart out to see himself inside of it.

"No, you’re not." He said, before leaning down to capture her gaping lips in a searing kiss. It was first kiss all over again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She looks back. That kiss--that night--should have never happenend.

She felt his lips move against hers, begging entrance. It was far more than a kiss that demanded sex--it was demanding assurance from her. It brought her both pleasure and pain that he was this desperate for her, and she equally was for him, but there was not going to be any happy ending to this. If she was a third person on this situation, she would know she'd smack herself on the head and tell her how stupid she was for allowing her emotions and her body to interfere with her moral standards.  
She grabbed his jacket by the lapels, not entirely sure whether to pull him closer, or throw him away from her. But the moment her arms made contact to his body, Fritz lifted his free hand and wrapped it around her waist, pulling Sharon closer to him and feeling his dire need even more. She was as just as anxious, clinging on to him for sheer want; she opened her mouth to let his tongue in, tugged him closer so she could feel that he was really there. He breathed into her mouth, and she knew it was a sigh of relief. Suddenly, her eyes began burning, liquid warmth started to trickle down her cheeks--it was like back to when how this started three months ago.

***  
He came knocking at her door, face streaked with tears, eyes blood shot red. Without warning, he had kissed her and she wasn't resisting--it was a kiss that finally found something. Heavy breathing accompanied their exchange of sweet nothings in between kisses, chasing each other in this new pursuit.  
Earlier that day, he told Sharon that Brenda made a decision: picked her job over him and their marriage. She told Fritz she got an offer to be chief of police in Atlanta PD, and she accepted without consulting him, and he might have been sort of relieved, until guilt settled in.

"Oh, I love you Sharon." He mumbled against her lips desperately in between fervent kisses. He was confessing it for the first time, but they both knew that was eventually coming, after sharing weeks of frustration over Brenda's stubbornness, and her utter disregard of Fritz and his needs. They both had been there for each other. She could cry in joy--it was real. She wasn't just imagining Fritz's lingering looks, or side-hugs that clung tighter than what was acceptable between colleagues. She allowed him, she allowed herself--they allowed themselves to indulge in the comfort wanting and being wanted.

She was aware that her wordless acknowledgment--returning his kiss with equal fervor, accepting and reciprocating--had certainly made this confession far worse. Wasn't confession of love supposed to be magical? As he swallowed her helpless whimpers, she started realizing that this was nowhere near magical. How come she felt deprived, selfish and greedy altogether, instead? She clung to him tightly, knuckles turning white at the tenacity of her grip. She should let go, and she was able to do so; did it with Jack before. Except this time, she could not find the courage to let go.

The need for air became burned in their lungs, so they pulled away almost simultaneously. He leaned his forehead against her, eyes shut as she watched him catch his breath. "I came here instead--" he panted, "--instead of the bar. No bourbon could ever wash away what I feel for you." That should've felt wonderful, she thought, but she just felt downright filthy for being his guilty pleasure. "AA wouldn't help either," he took a deep breath, "because a sponsor won't be able to tell me you love me too, Sharon."

And that was her cue: she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in for another hungered kiss. Yes, I love you, too, she couldn't say, Don't make me say it, she pleaded in her head. She held on firmly, unwilling to let go because she knew he was still not hers despite his confession. She tore away from his kiss, breathing in sharply through her nose when his lips trailed pecks across her cheeks, down to her jawline that transformed into possessive nips and licks. Love soon gave birth to lust--a buzz of pleasure coursed through her spine, spreading warmth across her abdomen, right down to the apex of her thighs as Fritz continued. Had it been that long since a man touched her? Since Jack? Sharon reveled in his ministrations, but she didn't know if they should go any further. She gasped in surprise, then moaned into his mouth when she felt his right hand squeeze her ass, pressing her hips against his growing arousal. She involuntarily ground her hips against, earning her a groan coming from deep his throat. He continued kissing and worshiping her, trailed his tongue from the joint of her neck and shoulder up to a sensitive spot behind her ear. She couldn't stifle a moan, feeling her body grow hotter by the second as he continued to lap on her neck.  
Then, Sharon heard him murmur, heard those three words again, "I love you" repeatedly as he moved lower, nudging her blouse's collar away from her chest. The room was running out of precious air. He lifted his head again, Sharon groaning at the loss of contact. But her knees buckled when he looked straight into her eyes--he was begging. How was she to say no? "I want you, Sharon." He lowered his lips on hers again, kissing her gently this time, "I love you." He whispered against her lips before pressing another kiss. He kept saying it like burning in her memory the sound of his voice as he professed his love for her. It didn't make the pang of guilt go away. 

Sharon took his head with both of her hands, pouring in her emotions in a desperate kiss. And then his hands moved between them, unbuttoning her shirt frantically, fingers grabbing and fumbling against her body. She could laugh and cry at his nervousness, because honestly, they both knew this was wrong--very wrong. Yet before she knew it, his hands had cupped her breasts, kneading them through her lace bra, currents of pleasure followed briefly, coursing through the length of her body. She whimpered against his lips as her body surrendered to the sensations he was creating with his ministrations. Fritz pushed her shirt off her shoulder, pulled it away from her arms and threw it on the floor.  
He then reached behind her and snapped her bra open--No, she thought. Before he could go further, Sharon pulled away. Fritz tried to chase her lips with a kiss but she pressed her hand against his chest to stop him. "No, Fritz," she whimpered.  
He leaned forward again, begging her with his eyes but she took a big step back clinging her arms around herself to cover her nearly exposed chest, "Please. No more."  
Fritz fell on the couch, head against his hands as he fought back tears. She picked up her shirt from the floor and clutched it against her breasts, in the brink of tears herself. She was horribly conflicted--between consoling him and showing him she loves him despite their stupid complications, or sending him back home to his wife and make them deal with whatever they were going through, Let them work out their marriage, she thought which hurt far more than she thought it could. As much as she disliked Brenda's methods at work, she didn't wish her own fate to be upon the younger woman--especially on Fritz.

Her shoulders shook violently as she fought sobs from escaping, floods of tears rolled out her eyes as she rushed to her bedroom.


End file.
